Fear and Courage
by Samuel La Flame
Summary: "Before, I had rarely felt fear; it was something that did not touch me. Never had I really understood the meaning of the word afraid. But now, it seemed as if I was always afraid. My thoughts turned ever to Gondor." Boromir, from his journey to Rivendell, throughout FOTR to his death. The fears of a hero as the Ring invades his mind. Please Read and Review! Book and Movie-verse!


**Fear and Courage**

Before, I had rarely felt fear; it was something that did not touch me. Never had I really understood the meaning of the word _afraid_. But now, it seemed as if I was always afraid. My thoughts turned ever to Gondor.

It started with the dream. The dream about Isildur's bane. Both Faramir and I received it but I was the one to tell father. When he spoke of leaving to journey into the wild to search for a place that few still believe existed I was afraid. When I saw that he would not let Faramir go with me, that I would have to make this journey on my own, I felt more fear. But I still did not hesitate before accepting to go. My father, my people, my country needed me to go. I would not fail them.

But I was also afraid of leaving Faramir at home with father. It was no secret that my father hated my little brother. So, just before I left, I begged one final favour. I begged that father would let Faramir go into the wilds with his rangers. His rangers were loyal to him, they- unlike father- knew Faramir's worth. Faramir would be safe with them. Father granted me that final favour so I left Gondor with little regrets. As I left, I looked back one final time, wondering if I would ever return. Then I turned my eyes to the road, banishing the fear.

The journey into the wilds was one of the hardest things that I had ever done. Every day, I wondered and doubted. I wondered where exactly I was and how far I had to go. I wondered if I would even survive this and laughed bitterly at the thought of a Captain of Gondor being killed thusly, in wild and alone. I wondered how Faramir fared and how Gondor was holding up against the Shadow. I doubted that I would ever find the valley I sought: Rivendell.

In the past, I had faced many perils but never alone as I was now. When I lost my horse near Tharbad I nearly wept for it was then that I was completely alone. I was attacked nearly every three days- at least-by small bands of orcs or wargs. I grabbed my sword on those occasions and killed m yfoes. Afterwards, I would touch the belt that was a gift from my mother and thank her before asking her for strength. I needed it then, I needed it badly.

So often I dreamt of giving up and returning to Gondor but I could not. My people died every day fighting the Shadow. I needed to succeed in this and reach Rivendell for them. That knowledge gave me the strength to continue on but it did not hide the truth from me: I was afraid.

After 110 days, I reached Rivendell, worn, exhausted, injured, half-starved and slightly dehydrated yet triumphant. I had found the hidden valley. I had reached Rivendell despite all odds to the contrary. Idly, I considered with a pang how much Faramir would have enjoyed this. He had always loved stories of elves. There were two that I remember in particular, Lords Elrond and Glorfindel.

Elrond's face was ageless, both young and old at once and he had hair that was dark as shadows and eyes that were a deep gray. His eyes were full of the wisdom of ages, they had seem both great joy and great sadness. They pierced you at once yet were full of compassion. But I could imagine them becoming hard and stern easily. This was someone who was used to the burden of command and who had the presence and air of a king. It was then that I remembered that his brother had been first and greatest king of Númenor, from whom the ancient kings of Gondor were descended. His presence was greater even then my father's.

Lord Glorfindel had hair of gold and he stood tall and strong. From my brother, who loved such tales, I had heard that he once slayed a Balrog. After witnessing him practice with some of the guard I could believe it, there was strength in his hand and he knew the sword better than any I had ever before met. He too, out of all the elves in Rivendell, won my respect.

The only person in Rivendell that I had met previously was Gandalf. My father disliked and feared him, my brother loved and trusted him. For my part, I respected his power. My grandfather had listened to his advice and destroyed the Corsairs of Umbar. I believed that such a man could wish Gondor ill and therefore could not be as bad as my father feared.

The elves healed me and offered me a change of clothes, plenty of food and invited me to the council that had been called. I was worried for that, and slightly angry. They had displayed their power and strength. Gondor needed such strength, Gondor needed help. I knew that I had to convince them to come to Gondor's aid, to help us fight the Shadow. I was angry that they had not helped us before and afraid that they would not come and we would be left to fight alone.

At the council, I learned of the Ring, of its entire history and how it affected Gondor. At first, I was angry with it and wished for it to be destroyed. It had betrayed and killed Isildur, a king of Gondor! It had resulted in the death of a great King of my country. It should be destroyed! But first, I must convince the council.

I was worried of course. Afraid, you might say. I was amongst the greatest out of every race, the ones about whom tales are told. How was I to convince this meeting of heroes to listen to what I had to say? Yet was it not my right to be here, I also wondered. I was Boromir, son of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower, future Steward of Gondor! They must listen to me. I would make them. But I felt afraid, what did I know of ancient tales that all those here seemed well-versed in? It would not do to seem ignorant or uneducated! So instead, I told them what I did know.

I told them of Gondor, of how my people fought each day and died fighting. I told them of all the efforts we spent fighting the Shadow and the Easterling and the Haradrim. I told them how dark the times were in Gondor and of the riddle that had been sent to my brother and I in the form of a dream. At the end of it all, I silently prayed that they would come to the aid of my people.

It was then that I met him, the man that was to become the bane of my existence, the one whose presence would keep me up late at night wondering. The one who I would grow to love yet hate, and who I would trust yet doubt. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

At first, I saw hope when I glanced at him. I still wanted then to destroy the Ring. But then, I looked to it, this Ring that had such power. I saw it sitting there, so innocently in the Halflings hand. I began to hear whispers, promises and a beautiful tune. Perhaps the Ring was simply misunderstood. After all, Sauron could corrupt anything. It was then that I began to doubt this strange and grim ranger of the North. It was then that I began to fear the destruction of the Ring.

The answer came at once, I could use the Ring. Surely, if the Ring could be used for evil it could also be used for good. Would it not be ironic if the thing Sauron wanted above all was that which lead to his destruction?! It would be perfect. Eagerly, I spoke up.

Yet none of the others on the council understood, I had no allies here, I realised. Scolded, I fell silent. But throughout the rest of the council, I looked from time to time for the Ring. I was afraid of what would happen to my country if we did not have it.

When I was chosen for the fellowship I was full of pride. The Valar were on my side, I would represent Gondor in the fellowship of the Ring. I would help bring about Sauron's destruction! I would help save my country. But then I glanced once more to the Ring and doubts began crowding my mind.

What did this ranger know of ruling? What did this ranger know of men? He had been raised among elves, he had been educated by them. How could he know the needs of men? How could he love Gondor the way a man raised there would?

My father loved Gondor, I knew. I loved Gondor. But what about this Aragorn, son of Arathorn? Did he truly deserve to be king? At once, I shut such thoughts from my head, that was treason! I saw then that my eyes had been locked on the Ring as I said that and I felt a frisson of fear go through me. So that was the danger of the Ring, it ruined your mind.

Still, I thought. My will was strong. I could control it. It must be testing me, I decided, trying to see if I were worthy to wield it. I would be strong, I promised myself. I shut the voice to the furthest corner of my mind. Yet now the thought began to plague me. Was Aragorn truly what was best for Gondor?

We set out from Rivendell, nine companions. I was impressed by Frodo's courage and captivated by all four of the Halflings. All had showed incredible bravery and they were wonderful- so loyal and loving. They were playful and innocent and determined and altogether wonderful creatures. I found myself teaching them how to use a sword.

I liked teaching them, it reminded me of how I had sparred and trained with the guard in Gondor. Yet even with this, as was becoming customary, I felt fear. What if my lessons weren't enough? What is despite these teachings I wasn't good enough and the hobbits were killed? What if I couldn't save them (and the Ring) and it was because of me that this quest failed? These fears assaulted me often though I tried to push them from my mind.

When we were caught in the blizzard on Caradhas I felt fear once more. Fear that the Halflings would die from the cold, fear that the Ring would be lost (because these days it was always on my mind), fear that I might die. Most of all, I felt fear from my lack of control. The Ring tried to twist my mind while even the strength of my body was not enough to help them. All of my strength meant nothing, all my struggles meant nothing. I felt powerless. It was then that the Ring started to whisper to me, not just about saving Gondor but also about granting me power.

Before the mines of Moria I felt once more the now-familiar feeling of fear. It seemed astounding that before this quest I had rarely felt it. The mines were long and dark and unknown. The mines were a last resort of a person who had no other choice. I supposed that that summed up our situation.

Throughout the mines the Ring plagued me, invading my mind and making me feel as if I was going crazy. One second I wanted it destroyed, the next I wanted to save it and use it to save Gondor. I fought the influence that it had on me, fought it as hard as I could, but my mind was weakening.

Here was a foe I could not see, here was a foe that half the time I thought was a blessing! I wanted a foe that I knew, an enemy that I could fight. My hand tightened on the hilt of my sword and I rejoiced in the feeling of cold steel wrapped in leather. I wished that I could fight this foe with my sword.

When the orcs pouring in, part of me rejoiced. Finally, a foe I knew how to fight. Finally, something that I could do! Yet then we were running, fleeing for our lives, and I felt the Ring reach out yet again for my mind. I resisted, barely, but each day it took longer. I wondered when I would no longer be able to resist.

Before the Balrog I felt afraid once more but I did not know of the demons of the ancient world in the same way that some of the others did. I had not been brought up on tales of its danger. All I saw was an enemy. A dangerous one, certainly, but one that I could see and hear and fight. One that did not exist in my own mind.

Together, Aragorn and I sprung forwards, ready to help Gandalf. Aragorn cried Elendil and I cried Gondor, for I would be loyal to her forever. Afterwards, it hit me that Aragorn had used as a battle cry an ancient king of Gondor. It was then that, when I was sane and the Ring was not twisting my mind, I began to believe that Aragorn might not be bad for Gondor.

When Gandalf fell I felt fear wash over me. Both fear and despair crashed into me with the power of the ocean. If Gandalf had fallen how could any of us hope to survive? Never, in any of my worst imaginings did I ever think that Gandalf would fall.

Aragorn took control of the Fellowship after, and though part of my mind was bitter and angry at that, another was impressed at how natural the position of command seemed to come to him. This was indeed a man born to the position of command. I was afraid of what my father would think of that but it was the truth. My father might not like it, but it was the truth.

When I felt the Elf-woman, Galadriel, come into my mind I felt fear once more. She could invade my thought just like the Ring. What if she could also influence and control me like it? She could see anything, she could come into my most private space: my mind!

Suddenly, I grew angry, what gave her that right? How did we know that she was even on our side? Who examined her mind? I vowed then not to trust her, who knew what plans she had?

When we left Lothlórien I knew that I had to return to Gondor. Nightmares had been plaguing me, brought on no doubt by the Ring. But what I had seen I could not ignore. I saw Osgiliath overrun and Minas Tirith under attack. I saw Faramir burning, and I could not reach him! I needed to return to Gondor, to give them what aid I could offer. The thought came again to me, I should bring them the Ring.

When I regained my mind I regretted that thought. I was afraid of the power the Ring had over me. I was afraid for Gondor and my people but also for the fellowship. I cared about these people now. Respected them, perhaps even loved them a bit though I still doubted Aragorn somewhat.

All along the river the Ring's influence grew in me and I became afraid of myself. What would happen when my mind fled? What would happen if the Ring consumed me? Yet also along the river happened another thing. Beneath the kings of old, Aragorn took form. No longer could he pass to any of the fellowship as a normal man. In the prow of his boat, sat a king. My father would not like it, I knew. My father might even try to fight it. But in the couple, precious seconds that the Ring attacked Aragorn's mind and no mine, I knew that as long as my mind was free, I would follow him. Yet the Ring returned to me and, once more, I was afraid.

My fears took form at Amon Hen. To my eternal shame, the Ring took me and I tried to wrest it from Frodo who fled in fear. Fear from me, I realised to my shame. Frodo was afraid of me, the same one who had sworn to protect and defend him. The one who honestly cared for him. I was filled with shame and even more fear. I doubt that I have ever been so afraid as I was in that moment.

Aragorn sent me after Merry and Pippin and so I went, my mind now free, where my king commanded me. I would guard them as best as I could, I promised, and then find some way to make it up to Frodo.

When I saw the host of orc attacking the poor hobbits I was filled with fear for them. Strangely, I seemed to have run out of fear for myself. I charged into the battle, and for some reason, I felt happy. Finally, I could do my duty. I could do as I swore. This enemy was neither a Balrog nor the infernal Ring. This enemy I could strike with my sword and watch fall. This enemy I could fight.

I struck down orcs quickly, ignoring their numbers, and I was doing well. It was then that my sword broke against the armour of the orcs. It was not of elvish or dwarvish make, it was not infused with magic. It was merely my sword, made by the best smiths Minas Tirith had to offer. It could not hold against the Uruk-hai.

I felt fear, I was alone, against impossible odds, and now without my sword- that same sword that had borne me faithfully through so many battles. I sounded the Horn, calling for help. When the Horn of Gondor sounds it means that Gondor calls for aid. The Son of Gondor now blew the Horn.

When the arrows struck me I felt barely any pain as I continued to slay the orcs. This was what I deserved, I thought. This was the price of my betrayal. But my best efforts were in vain and the orcs took the hobbits. I was left alone to die, arrows sticking out of me.

As I lay upon the ground I was afraid once more. I was afraid for the hobbits in the hands of the orcs. I was afraid for Frodo and the dark path he had to walk. I was afraid for my remaining companions who deserved so much. I sensed darkness ahead of them. I was afraid for Faramir and how father would be to him when he learned of my death. But most of all, I was afraid for Gondor, my country which I had now failed. I was afraid for what would happen to Gondor when Sauron marched upon it.

Aragorn came then, running to my aid. I smiled as my eyes started to close, Aragorn had answered the call of the horn. He looked bloody and fierce and somehow still like a king. When he knelt down beside me I spoke desperately, knowing I did not have long.

"They took the little ones", I told Aragorn desperately.

"Shh", he replied, trying to be soothing. "Stay still", he said as if I still had any hope of living. I saw the sorrow and disbelief in his eyes as he took in the arrows protruding from my chest. I felt touched by that, I hadn't known that he had cared that much. But I needed to keep speaking, I had so little time!

"Frodo", I asked, speaking of the first of my fears. "Where's Frodo?" If the orcs had him as well then we were all doomed.

"I let Frodo go", replied Aragorn quietly, looking at my eyes as if to see if I disagreed. But now that the Ring had vanished from my mind I knew that he had done right. I also looked somewhat in awe at this man. His will had to be tempered in steel if he had managed to resist the Ring's call. He was truly a man unlike any other. He was definitely worthy of his bloodline. He was worthy of being king. Gondor would be honoured to have such a king. Both honoured and blessed.

"Then you have done what I could not", I said, voice trembling. "I have tried to take the Ring from Frodo", I confessed, wanting to remove the burden from my shoulders before I died. Wanting to admit my faults to this king and see his reaction. To see if he forgave me. To see if I could be forgiven.

"I am sorry", I burst out. "I have paid", I added, and his gaze flickered to the arrows buried in me. His eyes saddened again. "It is beyond our reach now", he said quietly.

"Forgive me", I said, hoping to convey everything, trying to explain. "I did not see". I hadn't seen the true power of the Ring. I could not see it while it twisted my mind. "I have threatened you all", I admitted, fear coursing through me once more.

"No Boromir", said Aragorn comfortingly. The man was impossible. I did not see how he couldn't blame me. Yet I saw the truth in his eyes. This was a man far nobler than any other on this earth. It had been a privilege to know him, however short our time together was.

"You fought bravely", he said comfortingly. "You have kept your honour", he added with the barest of smiles. I knew then that he understood me. He understood how important loyalty and honour were to me. He understood me alliance to Gondor. He gave me something that, as king, he could take away. I would have even accepted it had he taken it from me. I did not think that I deserved it. But he gave me my honour.

"It is over", I said despairingly. "The world of men will fall and all will come to darkness", I said, knowing how true that could be, remembering the images I had seen in my dreams. Osgiliath overrun, Faramir burning, Minas Tirith under attack and the Pelennor fields a sea of blood…

"You must try", I said suddenly, desperately. He was the only hope for my people, for Gondor, and if anyone could save them he could. I saw that now.

"You must save them! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed", I said, slightly bitterly.

"No, you have conquered", he told me, taking my hand and kissing my brow. "Few have claimed such a victory", he said, gesturing to the orcs that lay dead around me.

But I was still afraid, what about Gondor? What about my people?

As if sensing my fear, he spoke. "I do not know what strength is in my blood", he said. I did. The strength most men could only imagine. The strength that no man in Gondor currently had. The strength of a king. But I had no time to say that.

"But I swear to you that Minas Tirith will not fall", he added. I looked into his eyes and saw their strength, their wisdom, their compassion. I saw his honesty and knew that this was more than a promise made merely to appease me.

This man, this _king _had givenme his word that my city would be safe. Knowing him, I knew that he would keep it or die trying.

"I will not let our people fail", he added. I smiled then, seeing that I was right. He was what Gondor needed.

"Our people", I said quietly, tasting the words. "Our people", I added again, wanting to feel the hope that that simply phrase brought. "Our people", I repeated, needing to say it. He nodded, a small smile flickering for a second across his face.

I reached for my sword, I would pledge myself to him then. I would take a vow to the king, even if I only lived for seconds after.

My sword was broken but he passed it to me and my fingers closed around the hilt and I brought it to my chest, every movement sending waves of agony through my body. The end was close.

"I would have followed you, my brother", I swore. "My captain", I added. "My king", I said finally, smiling a bit at that last word. For he was a king that anyone could be proud of and he was my king. He would save Gondor, of that I was sure.

I felt darkness approaching me then, I felt the end coming. So I stared into his eyes, the eyes of my king. I stared into his eyes and remembered his promise to save Gondor and to not let Minas Tirith fall. I remembered the determination and honesty in his gaze. And for the first time since this had started, I was not afraid.

The End

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This is my first story for Lord of the Rings so please review! Hope you enjoyed!


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